The Girl With the Baggage
by Cas-The-Cutie
Summary: When a young girl arrives on Sherlock's doorstep claiming to be his sister, the Consulting Detective is not amused. Especially when he discovers she'll be staying with him for a while. Will John and Sherlock learn to love the girl, or will they decide she's more trouble than she's worth?
1. A Rainy Afternoon

**The Girl With the Baggage**

**A Sherlock FanFiction**

**Written by: DeDe**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: A Rainy Afternoon<strong>

* * *

><p>It was a boring, rainy day at 221b Baker Street. Watson was busy blogging, Sherlock was cleaning out his mind palace, thus neither of them heard the timid knock at the door.<p>

_Knock_.

A few moments passed, and there was another knock.

_Knock. Knock._

John looked up from his computer. "Are we expecting anyone?"

Sherlock appeared not to have heard.

The blogger sighed. "I don't suppose you'll get the door."

Still no reply.

He sighed again, saving the draft of his next entry.

"I'll get the door Mrs. Hudson!"

* * *

><p>A young girl, maybe 16 years old, was standing there, with a single pink suitcase, a Vera Bradley duffel, and a backpack. She wasn't much shorter than John, there was only about 3 inches difference. She was wearing a long blue trenchcoat that looked to be a bit too big, and her hair was soaking wet-clearly she'd been in the rain a while.<p>

"I-I-Is this-" she cleared her throat, "Is this the home of Sherlock Holmes?" She asked shyly, shifting uncomfortably-You didn't have to be Sherlock to see she was nervous.

John frowned in confusion. "Yes, yes it is." He hoped this wasn't a lost pet case-Sherlock was bored enough he might take it. And why did she have luggage?

"May I speak with him please?" There was something off about her accent. It sounded a bit too perfect, like she was really concentrating on it. Or maybe he'd just been around Sherlock too long. "It's rather important."

He decided to humor the girl. She seemed genuinely nervous about something, and it's not like they were busy. "Sure-please, come in." He stepped aside, opening the door wider and allowing the girl-and her luggage-inside. He led her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Hudson ushered her to a chair and started some water for tea-the girl looked soaked.

"Sherlock!" John yelled. He looked over at the girl, who was sitting demurely with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap, like she was scared to touch anything.

There was no sound of Sherlock coming.

"Sherlock, there's someone here to see you!"

No answer.

John sighed. "Excuse me." He walked into the sitting room, where Sherlock was laying on the sofa, eyes closed. John reached down to shake him. "Sherlock, there's-" He cut himself off when Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"I know, I heard the first two times. I was hoping she'd leave-She is a she, right? About 1.6 meters, nervous, been out in the rain-Am I close?" He stood up, releasing John's wrist and striding past him into the kitchen, sitting across from the girl. "I was right then."

"Are-Are you Sherlock Holmes?"

He gave her a once over. "You're fifteen years old, wearing contacts, 1.6 meters, 85 pounds, and I'm sure even Watson could tell you're nervous about something."

The blogger didn't even look offended by that.

"That coat is your mother's, oh, she's dead, and you took a cab here but were standing out in the rain for about 5 minutes before you worked up the courage to knock on the door."

The girl, who had turned paler than she was before, nodded quickly.

"Your name starts with a C, you were a dancer, you've more recently began theatre, and today you've eaten a cupcake, a bag of Cheetos, and you've drunk a bottle of water."

She shifted uncomfortably.

"And for an actress you hate being the centre of attention. Interesting." He sat back, crossing his arms.

"How-"

"I can see the faint blueness where your contacts are, I used how tall you are right now and the height of the chair, your tiny even for your height, and an imbecile could tell you're uncomfortable." He explained quickly. "As you became more uncomfortable you wrapped the coat tighter, indicating it belonged to someone who made you feel secure, and given it's too big and woman's style it's your mum's. You winced when I mentioned that, obviously something bad had happened, and why else would you have her coat? A cab drove by five minutes before you knocked, and your hair is soaked through but not your coat." He gestured to her bracelet. "Your bracelet has a 'C' charm, and a very worn ballet shoes charm. There's also a newer Drama Masks charm, and under your nails are frosting and orange crumbs," The girl blushed, "Lastly, there's a water-bottle shaped lump in your coat pocket."

She was still focused on the dirt under her nails.

"Obviously I'm Sherlock Holmes." He asked. She shook her head. "All that's left to know about you is your name."

"C-Castiel." She finally made eye contact with Sherlock, and he noticed their eyes were the same shade of blue. "Castiel Holmes."

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter was somewhat uneventful, but necessary.<strong>

**Constructive Criticism and Reviews are much appreciated!**

**I love you all!**

**-DeDe**


	2. Explanations

**The Girl With the Baggage**

**A Sherlock Fanfiction**

**Written by: DeDe**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: Explanations<strong>

* * *

><p>It was hard not to see the resemblance, now that it'd been pointed out. Although she had long, straight blonde hair, they had the same facial structure, prominent cheekbones an all around serious expression, and same piercing blue eyes.<p>

Sherlock didn't looked pleased with that information. He stood up, crossing to the other side of the table and turning Castiel's chair to face him. "Who are you working for?" He practically yelled. "Who hired you?" The girl looked petrified. "Which imbecile thinks I don't know my family?"

"I-I-I'm not-"

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson interrupted him. "You're scaring the poor girl!" Even if she was a spy, as Sherlock thought, that didn't mean they had to scare her out of her wits. Sherlock frowned, pulling a chair over and sitting down, no longer in Castiel's face.

Sherlock clearly wasn't amused with that information. He stood up, crossing to the other side of the table.

"Clearly someone sent you to spy on me. Trying to pass you off as my sister. They did a good job, I'll give them that-You look like we could've been related." Sherlock was quieter, but still had the same intensity in his voice. "Except I don't have a sister. How much are they paying you?"

"I-I'm not b-being paid." Castiel stuttered.

"Stop lying. You aren't fooling me and it will be easier if you answer my questions."

"I'm not being paid!"

"What kind of spy isn't paid?"

"I'm not a spy!"

"Stop lying!" Sherlock yelled. Castiel flinched when he raised his voice.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson interrupted him. "You're scaring the poor girl!" Even if she was a spy, as Sherlock thought, that didn't mean they had to scare her out of her wits. Sherlock frowned, pulling a chair over and sitting down, no longer in Castiel's face.

"Tell me who you really are." Sherlock wasn't as loud, but his voice held the same intensity.

"I'm not lying!" She raised her voice for the first time, nowhere near yelling, but above the murmur she'd been at before. "My name is Castiel Desirae Brittain-Holmes, and I'm your half-sister!" Her face immediately paled and she sank back in her chair, her hands shaking. Mrs. Hudson shot Sherlock a look, then pressed a mug of tea into the girl's hands. The girl took it gratefully, immediately putting it to her lips. A look flashed across her face as she took a sip, but it was too fast for anyone to notice but Sherlock.

Sherlock had a contemplative look on his face, and John decided now would be a good time to intervene. "Mrs. Hudson, would you mind terribly going out to get some biscuits?" He asked her quietly. She opened her mouth to protest, then saw the state the girl was in and nodded, leaving the room. John pulled up a chair next to Sherlock, doing his best to look as un-intimidating as possible. "Why don't you explain to us exactly what's going on, Castiel?"

* * *

><p>She girl took a sip of tea, then took a deep breath. "I don't know how it happened. They never told me. All I know is as long as I can remember every month we've received a $400 check in the mail, if anything happened to Mum I was supposed to come to London, and every year until I turned 10, for my birthday Dad took me out for the day. He picked me up at precisely 9:00am and we'd spend the day out, he'd by me a nice dress, and in the evening we went to see a show together." She paused to take a sip of tea. Sherlock rolled his eyes. This was taking too long. Castiel noticed, and shifted uncomfortably. "Once a year. Until my twelfth birthday. He didn't show. Mycroft showed up, and informed us dad was dead. He was in charge of the account sending us money, and mum sent me outside while they discussed stuff. After that, I was told that if it ever came to where I needed to go to London, I was to call this number." She dug a piece of paper out of her pocket with a phone number on it. "And if no one answered I was to go find Sherlock Holmes at 221b Baker Street." She took a deep breath. "Three days ago, my mother...her plane crashed. They-they were down on emergency equipment. One set was faulty. My mum gave hers to the single woman with three kids waiting at home." She closed her eyes tight, a single tear escaping down her cheek. She took another sip of her tea, then stared at her lap, fiddling with her bracelet.<p>

"You're not drinking your tea. Why?" Sherlock asked. Watson shot him a look. THAT's what he got from that? "You've been seeming to drink it the last five minutes and the level hasn't dropped. Why?"

"I-I-I-It's just, I-I'm not really a hot tea person." She mumbled. She was clearly on the verge of tears and Sherlock's insensitivity wasn't helping. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"If you want to have a remote chance of passing as English you need to learn to drink tea. Because you aren't English, are you?"

Castiel nodded.

"You're American. From the south presumably, by your mention of not liking 'warm' tea."

Castiel nodded again, sniffling.

"Watson, make Castiel stop crying, a hysterical, hormonal teenager is not what I want to deal with." Sherlock stood up. "I need to make a visit to my brother." He left the room. John sighed.

"I'm sorry about him he's... Insensitive. Are-are you going to be okay?"

Castiel nodded slowly, plastering on a smile. "Yeah." She said quietly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

* * *

><p><strong>I promise it'll get somewhat more exciting once we get into the cases and stuff but I need to set up the story first.<strong>

**Constructive Criticism and Reviews are appreciated.**

**I love you all!**

**-DeDe**


	3. Arrangements

**The Girl With The Baggage**

**A Sherlock Fanfiction**

**By: DeDe/Wolfy**

**Chapter 3: Arrangements**

* * *

><p>An hour later, Sherlock, Mycroft, and Castiel were in the sitting room, Castiel, now with a mug of hot cocoa, in a chair, Sherlock on a couch and Mycroftin a chair.<p>

"Cas."

"Mycroft."

"Cas?" Sherlock questioned.

"Short for Castiel. Her nickname." Mycroft explained. He looked to Cas. "I take it the worst has happened?"

She nodded.

"I truly am sorry."

She shrugged. It wasn't his fault. He was doing his best to help, and that's what mattered.

Mycroft sighed. She was usually more talkative than this. She must be taking this worse than he'd initially thought.

Sherlock decided to intervene. "Why did you tell her to come here?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, you are her family. I wasn't available when she arrived and she couldn't wait in the rain for two hours."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Why not tell her to go to your office?"

Mycroft glanced at Castiel. "Cas, would you mind going and getting a tray of biscuits from the kitchen?"

Cas shook her head, hopping to her feet. "Not at all."

As soon as she was out of earshot, Mycroft turned back to Sherlock. "She couldn't meet me at work because 1, she doesn't have clearance, and 2, she isn't supposed to exist."

"But it was obvious that mother and father's marriage was falling apart in our teen years. Didn't anyone see—"

Mycroft sighed. "No, because ordinary people don't like to believe their spouse cheats on them."

Sherlock smirked slightly. "That must be nice. Are all ordinary people that oblivious?"

Mycroft shrugged. "For the most part."

Sherlock smirked. Then his expression went serious again. "She's not staying here."

"Why not?"

"I don't want or need to care for a teenage girl."

"Well I can't take her in. She'd be alone most of the time."

"She's accustomed to it."

"What?"

"She's quiet, hates being the centre of attention and seems uncomfortable talking with anyone. She is obviously accustomed to being alone."

Mycroft sighed. That isn't it at all. "Believe what you will Sherlock, but I'm working off…other facts, and she doesn't need to be alone all the time. She'll need to stay here, at least for a little while. I'll work on finding another place for her."

"We have no room." Sherlock retorted, a sort of last ditch effort.

"I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would open up another room. MRS. HUDSON!" Mycroft called.

"Coming!" A few moments later Mrs. Hudson walked in. "Yes?"

"Would you mind terribly opening up another bedroom? Castiel is going to be staying here for a while. I'll be paying for it, of course."

"As long as she remembers I'm the landlady, not the housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson smiled. "It'll be nice to have some young blood around here."

Castiel walked back in just then, carrying a tray of biscuits. "…Did I miss something?" Sherlock was giving her a look, Mrs. Hudson was smiling at her, and Mycroft had a slight smirk.

"Cas, you're going to stay here for a bit." Mycroft explained. "Just until I can find a proper family for you. Is that alright?"

Castiel smiled, nodding quickly. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine."

Mycroft smiled. "Good. Could I have a word with you in the hall?"

Castiel's expression changed slightly and nodded. Sherlock tried to make out what they were saying in the hall, but only got part of Mycroft's side of the conversation. "Friends….don't call….He might…you can't…sorry…I'll try…."

They came back into the room, Castiel sat back down, the slightest pout on her face, tapping her fingers on her pocket for a moment then pulling out an iPhone 4s.

"I will trust you'll keep Castiel alive." Mycroft said. "You'll need to register her for school sometime too." He smirked. "I'll be back to check on her in a few weeks." He turned to leave. Sherlock followed him to the door.

"I don't know what you expect me to do with her." Sherlock said, glancing back to where Cas was sitting, playing on her phone. "She's so ordinary."

"Oh, Sherlock." Mycroft chuckled. "I believe you'll find she's anything but."

* * *

><p><strong>It's a bit short, sorry. Busy week and all.<strong>

**I love you all!**

**—DeDe**


	4. Similarities

**The Girl With the Baggage**

**A Sherlock Fanfiction**

**By: DeDe/Wolfy**

**Chapter 4: Similarities**

* * *

><p>"I'm addicted to the Internet, I have a strange music taste, I prefer to text and I have no self-confidence." Castiel said without looking up from her phone when John and Sherlock walked back in. She looked up when neither responded after a few moments. "If I'm going to be living with you, we should know the know the worst about each other."<p>

John blinked, looking between Sherlock and Cas. Yup, they are definitely related.

Sherlock took it in stride. "I play the violin when I think and sometimes don't talk for hours on end."

"…I let him talk to regular people." John said, mostly joking. Cas giggled. She had a cute giggle.

Mrs. Hudson came back in just then. "How about you come see your room dear? Boys, help her with her bags!"

Castiel slipped her phone back into her pocket and grabbed her backpack and duffel. Sherlock didn't move, so John rolled his eyes and took her suitcase.

Her room wasn't too bad. It was a decent size, with a window that had a view of the street below, and a full size bed pushed in a corner. The closet wasn't huge, but it wasn't too small either. Castiel smiled.

"This is great. Thank you."

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "We'll just let you unpack then."

As soon as the door clicked shut, Castiel slid against it to the floor, the smile falling from her face. She was so used to hiding her true emotions it was habit now. She sighed. She could think of worse situations to be in…but she could also think of better ones.

Here she was, finally in London, which was her dream city…without any real family or friends. She wasn't even allowed to call/text them, according to Mycroft. Not until he said she could. Which she understood. Better to be safe than sorry…

She finally let the tears start to fall. This was by far the worst week ever.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Castiel hadn't come back out. John decided to go check on her, see how she was settling in.<p>

He opened her bedroom door a crack. She was wearing headphones, absorbed in watching something on her laptop, sprawled on her bed. She was still wearing the trenchcoat, and her hair was mostly dry now.

John knocked softly on the door. Castiel looked up.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." The girl said quietly. She was glad most of the traces of crying were gone. "I'm fine."

"Good." An awkward pause. "…We don't really have plans for dinner…if you're hungry there's a cafe—"

"No, no, I'm fine." She was hungry…but she didn't want to be a bother. "Thank you."

John frowned. "Are you sure? All you've had is a cupcake and Cheetos."

"According to Sherlock. He could be wrong."

"Sherlock is many things, but wrong is not one of them…most of the time."

She sighed. "Really, I'm not hung—" she was cut off by her stomach growling rather loudly.

John smirked slightly. "Not hungry?"

Castiel blushed deeply.

John chuckled. "Come on, let's get you some dinner."

Castiel sighed. "Okay. I'll be down in a minute."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later they were sitting in the cafe. Castiel was picking at some fish and chips, John just had some tea, and Sherlock decided to stay home and talk to himself.<p>

"So, Castiel," John started, trying to break the ice. "Where in America are you from?"

She took a moment to swallow her chip. "Texas. Houston, to be precise."

"Oh?" Another awkward silence. "Is it nice?"

There was a long pause, like Cas had to think about her answer. "…It was a fun city. A bit too hot for my taste, but you get used to it."

Another awkward silence. Cas seemed positively terrified. John was starting to feel like he shouldn't have forced her out to dinner. Note to self: Don't force Castiel to go out. She really was similar to Sherlock.

Cas was fingering her pocket nervously, wishing she could pull out her phone, but she didn't want to seem rude or anti-social, because she really wasn't, she was just…shy. Sort of asocial. She was the adorable yet weird geeky girl at her old school, everyone loved her, but almost no one actually talked to her, because she was so quirky. She had her close knit group of friends used to her slight awkwardness, but that was it.

Basically, people didn't socialize with her, so she didn't socialize with people.

So she didn't like being forced out in public. Not that she'd complain or anything, she really was too sweet, she just felt awkward. Like the world was constantly judging her…But she was pretty hungry.

John decided it'd be best to just go home. "Are you done?" He asked. Cas nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed with some hot cocoa and read and not have to talk to anyone in real life for a few hours. John nodded, and moments later they were walking back to the apartment.

They stepped inside, Cas seeming a bit more relaxed.

"Castiel, I—"

"Please, call me Cas."

"Cas, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine. I really was hungry." It wasn't his fault. He didn't know anything about her, what she was going through. "Thank you for dinner." She stood there for a moment, then turned and went back to her room.

John blinked. "…You're welcome."

He went and sat back in the sitting room, picking up the TV remote.

Sherlock hadn't even noticed they left.

* * *

><p><strong>It will get more action packed soon, I promise, I just need to finish getting Cas settled in. I'm going to go with this takes place between ASiP and TBB. I may write about one of the in between cases from John's blog, I'll see when I get there.<strong>

**Also, since we don't know much about Sherlock's parents, I'm going to say this is a slight AU, just to be safe.**

**I love you all!**

**-DeDe**


	5. Getting to Know You

**The Girl With the Baggage**

**A Sherlock FanFiction**

**By: DeDe/Wolfy**

**Chapter 5: Getting to Know You**

* * *

><p>A week passed, and they had a sort of system worked out. Cas was always up earliest, so she made breakfast for everyone, for which John was thankful and Sherlock just kind of nodded approval. Cas hadn't claimed any TV time yet, as she hadn't figured out the programs and John doubted they had her channels. So Cas sometimes watched TV with John, but mostly hid in her room on her laptop. And she never did anything with Sherlock unless John was there too, which puzzled the sociopath.<p>

"Well, Sherlock, you probably intimidate her or make her feel like an idiot. Or both." John explained when Sherlock voiced his question. "You weren't exactly the friendliest person when she first arrived. Honestly, I'd be wary of you if I were her."

Sherlock fell silent, pondering this.

Plus, she always wore long sleeves, even on days it wasn't chilly. And she always evaded personal questions, or gave very vague answers, like she was hiding something. Sherlock was actually starting to become slightly interested in her.

That didn't mean he actually liked her or anything. He just had no cases at the moment so the secretive teenager was his new project.

So, Sherlock was extremely annoyed when a package of files came from his brother, with an attached letter saying this is what they'd need to enroll Castiel in school—Which they'd need to do, as they were her guardians as of right now. He recommended Coal Hill School, which was close enough for Cas to walk to and had an excellent reputation. But she needed to be registered this Saturday.

"John—"

"Can't, I have plans. You'll have to take her."

"What?"

"I'm busy Saturday, you'll have to get her registered. Think of it as bonding time."

"Bonding time?"

"You know, getting to know her. She is your half-sister and she will be staying with us for a while." John smirked. "You should also apologize for your behavior that first day."

Sherlock sighed. There was no wheedling out of this. "Fine."

So that Saturday, Castiel a and Sherlock were walking towards Coal Hill School. It started rather tense, an awkward silence between the two, and Castiel seemed distracted, like she wasn't all there.

"Castiel?"

"Hmm?" The teen blinked, coming out of her thoughts. "Yes?"

He noticed she didn't correct him to call her Cas. She really wasn't comfortable with him.

"I've been informed that my actions when we first met were 'insensitive' and 'uncalled for.'…and that I should apologize."

Castiel looked up at him. Why is he so freaking tall? He should join the league of long legged men with prominent cheekbones.

Damnit. She was going to make him actually say it. Damn then both. "I'm sorry." He said.

Castiel's face turned red and she looked down. "Th-thank you." She said quietly. Suddenly, the silence didn't seem so awkward. To her at least. He didn't know how much that apology meant to her.

About half an hour later, they were sitting with the Dean of Admissions. Sherlock could tell he wasn't pleased with the idea of having an American student.

"So, you'll be in Advanced a Placement year 10 English, Chemistry, and Geometry, and on-level World History. Foreign language?"

Sherlock looked to Castiel.

"Oh, um, French level 2 Advanced Placement please."

The Dean nodded slowly. "Okay…" He typed that in the computer, then checked one of her files. "Would you like to continue with choir?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay." He looked at her file again. "I'm afraid we don't offer…Fashion Marketing. And public speaking is not required."

"Um…" She stared at the list of available courses, trying to decide on another class. She didn't like making on the spot decisions like this.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. She was taking too long. He quickly made some deductions. "Put her down for Advanced Drama."

Castiel's face lit up.

"That's an audition only class." The Dean smirked.

Castiel's face fell.

"I'm sure you could make an exception."

"That's not possible."

Castiel was once again on the verge of tears, Sherlock noticed. If she arrived back at the apartment in tears John would blame him. At least, that's what he decided made him say what he said next.

"She'll audition now."

"She needs to have two contrasting monologues prepared."

"She does." She'd better, all the trouble he was going through. The look on her face said she did.

The Dean sighed. "Very well."

Half an hour later they were in the school theatre, Castiel standing onstage in front of the Theatre directors.

Castiel saw Sherlock watching her from the house. For whatever reason, she felt like she was performing more for him than the directors. She didn't know why. Probably because she had this fear if she messed up in front of people she had to actually be around soon after she'd be ridiculed forever. Or something.

She took a deep breath, shaking those thoughts away. Focus on the now.

*Two contrasting monologues later*

She was then excused from the stage while the directors deliberated.

Sherlock watched her as she walked over. Onstage her nerves had vanished, but the moment she was out of the spotlight they'd rushed back, as was revealed by the way she was playing with her hands and her hair. Interesting. Wait—it wasn't the directors making her nervous. She barely noticed them. What was it, then? She was becoming more intriguing by the minute.

It was quite bothersome.

Castiel glanced at Sherlock. He wasn't saying anything. Did he think she was awful? He thought she was awful. Yup. She was doomed. She looked away, feeling her face turning red.

Sherlock frowned slightly as she glanced at him nervously. HE was the one making her nervous? Why?

A few minutes later, they informed Castiel she had indeed made the cut.

She smiled. "Thank you so much."

They said goodbye, and a few minutes later they were walking back to the apartment.

Castiel still didn't seem too excited.

It's not that she wasn't happy. She was still smiling, it looked more genuine than any he'd seen on her before, and she had more if a skip to her step, but she wasn't squealing or jumping up and down like most people did when they accomplish something of that sort.

She really was rather odd.

* * *

><p>They walked back in the door and John was still sitting in the kitchen. Castiel gave him a cheery wave then went back to hide in her room.<p>

Sherlock frowned. "I thought you had plans."

"It turns out they were cancelled. Funny how that worked out." He was smirking, ever so slightly.

"You never had plans, did you?"

"Nope."

"Why couldn't you take her then?"

"Sherlock, you need to get to know her. I know she at least intrigues you—don't think I don't see you analyzing her every time you're in a room together." John said. "Did you learn anything about her on your little outing?"

"She sings, speaks beginning French, can't make on the spot decisions, has a decent memory, and for whatever reason I make her nervous."

"I meant—" John sighed. "Nevermind. You at least apologized, right?"

"Yes, yes."

Neither of them saw Castiel slip into sitting room, so they both jumped a bit when the TV turned on. Moments later they heard A familiar Sci-Fi tune. Sherlock frowned and stood up, standing in the doorway.

Doctor Who was on.

John chuckled. "Oh yeah, Doctor Who. Used to love that as a kid."

Sherlock almost smiled. This had been the one television series that kept him entertained as a child. He'd even seen a few episodes of the reboot.

Why on earth would an American teenage girl watch it? They were supposed to all like Jersey Shore or whatever. She had her laptop out, sitting in front of the couch. Sherlock figured she was looking up the channel guide.

"We don't have any American channels, we don't have the international package." He called.

Castiel shrugged. She didn't reach for the remote, just continued typing on her laptop.

Sherlock sat in an armchair. "This won't interest you."

"Why do you say that?" She still didn't look up, though she stiffened a bit when he sat down. _Please don't comment on my monologues, please don't comment on my monologues._

He still made her nervous. Interesting. She had mentioned low self-confidence…He started putting pieces together.

Castiel glanced at the TV for a moment, Oh, this episode, then back to her laptop.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He gave her five minutes before the show got too confusing for her.

She finished she whole episode, though she didn't even seem to pay attention half the time. Sherlock reached for the remote.

Castiel glared at him. "There's another episode next." She mumbled. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You don't understand a thing happening."

She looked up at him, frowning slightly. "...Th-this is one of my favorite serials."

Sherlock blinked. He hadn't expected that. "Really?"

She nodded, snatching the remote, setting it next to her as the next episode started.

And so she claimed the TV for 2 hours on Saturdays.

* * *

><p><strong>This is the last boring chapter. The next one gets into the beginning of TBB. :)<strong>

**I love you all!**

**—DeDe**


	6. An Introduction to Consulting Detecting

**The Girl With the Baggage**

**A Sherlock Fanfiction**

**By: DeDe/Wolfy**

**Chapter 6: Introduction to Consulting Detecting**

* * *

><p>Castiel was starting to settle in. Sort of. School was wildly different, and she was having trouble making friends, considering it was the middle of the year right after spring break. She was stressed out and frustrated with no one to vent to, and she just wanted to relax when she got back to the apartment.<p>

So when she walked in and first thing she was Sherlock fighting a warrior dude, her first instinct was not to run in terror or scream. No, it was to groan exasperatedly. Of course this is what Sherlock would do during the day. Didn't he have a case or something?

Her groan distracted the warrior, giving Sherlock enough time to knock him out. The warrior collapsed into an armchair.

Sherlock nodded to Castiel in approval. "Excellent timing."

Castiel smirked a bit. "No problem." Because I totally planned that… She looked to the warrior. "Who's that?"

"A friend of mine. Well, I say friend…"

Castiel chuckled a bit. "What was he after?"

"Your schoolbag, front pocket, in the lining behind the pencil case."

Confused, Castiel sat down on the floor, digging through her backback. "Hmm, the lining's been torn and repaired…" Sighing, she rather liked this bag, she tore it again, and pulled out a rather large diamond, eyes wide.

"The Jaria diamond." Sherlock smirked.

"How did this get in my bag?" Castiel asked, appalled.

"Obviously I couldn't leave it here, too easy to find."

"What if he'd come after me?"

"He didn't."

Castiel sighed. What else had she expected? She'd found Watson's blog the other day. That policewoman said Sherlock got off on murders—of course he wouldn't care about her safety. "Do you want help cleaning up?"

Sherlock nodded. "I'll take care of him if you clean up this." He gestured vaguely to room. Castiel sighed, rolling her eyes, but she did go and start stacking the papers that had fallen back onto the desk.

So, when John retuned ten minutes later, everything appeared normal, Sherlock sitting in his armchair reading and Castiel sprawled on the couch, also reading.

"You took your time." Sherlock said, not looking up from his book.

"Er … I didn't get the shopping." John mumbled.

"What? Why not?"

"I had a row in the shop. With the chip and pin machine."

"You had a row with a machine?"

"Well, sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse."

Castiel shrugged. "They are pretty temperamental. The ones back in Texas were awful." She said.

"I know! They're purpose is to speed up the shopping, but they really don't." John turned back to Sherlock. "Have you got cash?

Sherlock nodded toward a table. "Take my card."

John dug in Sherlock's wallet and found his debit card. "You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning - you haven't moved since I went out."

Castiel giggled, and Sherlock shot her a look. She receded behind her book.

"What happened about that case you were offered? The Jaria diamond?"

Castiel saw the warrior's sword lying on the carpet and nodded to it, catching Sherlock's attention.

"Not interested." The Detective said. "I sent them a message." He kicked the blade under the table.

John rolled his eyes and left.

Five minutes later John entered again, laden with groceries. He dumped the bags on the counter with a bang.

Sherlock was doing something on John's laptop. Castiel was still reading.

"Is that my computer?"

"Of course."

"What?"

"Mine is in the bedroom and Castiel wouldn't get up."

Castiel was absorbed in her novel, a worn, reddish paperback that said something about "Percy Jackson" on it.

"Right. And you couldn't be bothered to get up?"

Sherlock couldn't even be bothered to answer.

"It's password protected."

You could hear Sherlock smirking. "In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly Fort Knox."

"You guessed my password!?"

"There are forty-three."

"What?"

"Types of password. That people like you commonly use."

"What does that mean? 'People like me'."

"Ordinary."

"Stupid. Better change it."

"There's no point."

"No, I suppose."

"Oh, Get a room!" Castiel called from the couch. They turned to her. "I'm trying to read!" She receded back behind her book. Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning back to the computer.

"I see you've started a blog…"

"You… you read it?" John asked warily.

"'Imperious'. Not a word I've ever been called before."

"I said some nice stuff about you too… I said you knew some good restaurants."

Castiel snorted from behind her book.

"'Pompous' has a 'U' in it." Sherlock corrected.

"You still haven't fixed that?" Castiel asked. "I corrected you last week."

"A teenage, _american_ girl can spell better than you?"

"Right. Thank you." John said, snatching the computer away and snapping it shut. He collapsed in a chair and examined the mail. Plenty of bills. "I need to get a job."

"Oh. Dull!" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. But necessary. If we want to eat actual food this month."

"Make Castiel get one."

The teen decided not to dignify that with a response.

John thumbed through a whole stack of read bills, discarding them.

"If you could see your way to lending me some…" He trailed off, waiting for Sherlock to answer. There was no response. "Sherlock? Did you hear what I said?"

The Detective jumped to his feet. "I need go to the bank." He grabbed his things and headed for the door.

John sighed. "Cas, will you be okay on your own for a bit?"

Castiel shrugged. "I suppose." As soon as the pair left, Castiel eagerly opened up her laptop, pulling up Skype.

* * *

><p>About an hour later John and Sherlock were back. Castiel didn't seem to have moved, except she was reading a different book, still "Percy JAckson" but this one was blue, and her laptop was on the floor beside her, not on the coffee table.<p>

"Have you moved since we left?" John asked, pulling out the phone book as Sherlock sat down to think.

Castiel just turned the page.

"I guess not."

Neither of them saw her small smirk.

* * *

><p>The next day, Castiel was watching Sherlock post of pictures of graffiti above the fireplace as John left for a job interview. She cocked her head, thinking.<p>

"Could you pass me a pen?" He asked.

"What? Sure." Castiel tossed him a blue ballpoint from her pocket.

"You keep a pen in your pocket?"

She blushed slightly, then shrugged. "I'm forgetful."

Sherlock started scribbling something on a spare sheet of paper. There were a few minutes of silence.

"It looks Asian."

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"The graffiti. It reminds me of something from a TV show I watched when I was younger."

Sherlock whirled to look at her. "What did they mean?" She flinched at the intensity of his voice.

"I-I-I can't remember."

"Then why did you—"

"I-I thought it would help!" She sighed. "Give me a day and I can tell you."

"You'll suddenly remember?"

Castiel smirked. "Something like that." She stood up, grabbing her laptop.

"Where are you going?"

"To remember." She went up to her room, and Sherlock turned back to the pictures.

An hour later Castiel ran back in, laptop in hand. "There's been another impossible murder."

"What?"

"Last night. A journalist was murdered in his apartment, but his door and windows were locked from the inside." She was showing him the article when John returned.

"How was the interview?" Castiel asked, just as Sherlock exclaimed "There you are!"

"Didn't you notice I left?" John shook his head. "It was great. She's great."

"She?" Castiel smirked.

"It. The job." John corrected himself.

Sherlock interrupted before Castiel could tease John any more. "Take a look."

There was a pause as John read the article. "God. You think…?"

"He's killed another one." He grabbed his scarf from the table. "We're going to Scotland Yard. You stay and remember." Sherlock smirked as he swept out the door.

John frowned in confusion. "Remember?"

Castiel smirked. "Just go."

* * *

><p><strong>I love you all!<strong>

**~DeDe**


	7. When it Suits You

**The Girl With the Baggage**

**A Sherlock Fanfiction**

**By: DeDe/Wolfy**

**Chapter 7: When it Suits You**

* * *

><p>Sherlock got a text from an unknown number just as they were leaving the crime scene. It read: "Numbers."<p>

Sherlock quickly typed out a response: "What?"

"Numbers. The symbols are numbers." There was a pause between messages. "It's Castiel, by the way."

Things were starting to fall into place. "They're numbers?"

"Yup, an old Chinese dialect. Not used very often anymore."

* * *

><p>Castiel stared at her phone. Sherlock didn't reply. She decided to just call him back to explain. It'd be easier. "It'll be easier to explain if you come back to 221b." She still wouldn't call it home.<p>

* * *

><p>Sherlock sighed, putting his phone in his pocket, and started walking to the apartment.<p>

When they arrived, Castiel already had a few websites pulled up. "See? ancient Chinese numbers." She said. "I would've printed them out but I wasn't sure how." For someone so good with the internet, she really sucked when it it came to actually working the electronics themselves.

Sherlock quickly scrolled through the sites. John was a bit shocked.

"Cas, how did you—"

"Like I told Sherlock, it reminded me of an old kid's show that quit airing a while ago. The episodes were only, like, 15 minutes each, if that long, so it wasn't hard to find one with the symbols in it. They weren't exactly the same, but pretty similar, and then it was just a matter of digging." She blushed a bit. "I'm pretty good at online research." It came from years of experience finding sites to watch TV shows without having to download anything.

John grinned. "That's brilliant." It seemed genius ran in the family.

Sherlock growled in annoyance. "Castiel, how do you turn the webcam off, the green light it bothering me."

Cas rolled her eyes, pressing a button and the light blinked off. John frowned. "Why was your webcam on?"

"Taking selfies for no reason. The camera liked me today." She tossed her hair dramatically.

"Lies." Sherlock muttered.

"Okay, so the camera never likes me, but—"

"Skype was open recently. You have friends to Skype with?" Sherlock turned and gave Cas an incredulous look.

Castiel gave Sherlock a look. "That. Hurts."

John raised an eyebrow. "Were you Skyping?"

"Yeah, so?" Castiel crossed her arms.

"Mycroft said you weren't allowed—"

"I trust my friends." Castiel replied cooly, suddenly frowning. "Now, weren't we solving a murder?"

"Now we know what, now we just need to know Who, Why, and How." Sherlock smirked, getting up and grabbing his contact book.

Castiel ignored the look John was giving her. "I know a guy! Well, I don't know him, per say, but he's gonna be behind the National Gallery soon doing some 'artwork.' Raz something—" she said the name at the same time Sherlock said:

"Raz."

They looked at each other.

"How do you know— Well, I say know—I actually just—" they said simultaneously. "Okay you first." Sherlock finally said, rolling his eyes.

Castiel smirked. "We have French together. I overheard him. Funny, they don't realize just because I don't talk doesn't mean I don't listen." She had a look in her eye, like she knew a few dirty little secrets. Sherlock decided to keep that in mind. She could be useful one day.

"Thanks Cas." John smiled. Sherlock nodded and they started for the door. Castiel frowned.

"Wait a minute!" She started tugging on her shoes. "I'm coming too!"

"I'm not having a child tag along during my investigation." Sherlock said immediately.

"I'm not a child anymore, I'm 15!" Castiel said indignantly. "And without me you wouldn't be this far in the investigation."

"And your assistance was appreciated but I'm not having you slow us down," Sherlock said. "You're easily distracted, have no sense of direction, and you and I both know that you're not the smartest person out there."

"What, so I'm only helpful if it suits you?" Castiel growled, her face hardening. "Fine." She took her laptop and started walking to her room. "See if I help you again!" She disappeared, and a few moments later they heard a door slam.

Sherlock muttered something about her being melodramatic and continued towards the door.

"You didn't need to be so hard on her." John stated. Sherlock shrugged. He generally wasn't one for sparing feelings.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm finally back! Sorry this took so long...No time to post.<strong>

**I'm sorry this one is kinda short, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things.**

**I love you all!**

**—DeDe**


End file.
